


trigger point

by kalypsobean



Category: Chicago PD (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post-Season/Series 04, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 00:31:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13155342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalypsobean/pseuds/kalypsobean





	trigger point

Intelligence is the least predictable place he could have ended up in; sure, walking a beat wasn't entirely routine either, but there was a uniform there, and start and end times, and things that always had to be done the same way. Now, he doesn't even know what type of case he'll be working in the afternoon when he gets in in the morning, if he's even going in after being out all night because he's working overtime that sometimes ends up unpaid. There are little things, though, that help with getting a handle on it at first, like how he gets to carry _his_ weapon, how everything he needs to know is on the board... how it's almost like a family, except he doesn't have to sleep with them, and he can go home and be away without anyone punishing him or asking questions. 

 

He wanted that for Mouse, too. Not exactly structure, but a place where those skills were useful, and there was never energy left for remembering, if those insidious memories weren't replaced by something closer to home and less urgent, less consequential. For a while, it seemed to work, and any resulting sleepless nights he had were offset by having Mouse right there, and seeing him settle and make a space of his own. It kills him that it wasn't enough for Mouse, that just after he'd become used to having then and now blurred and learned to be able to rely on having someone there who _understood_. He's glad, sort of, that they didn't replace Mouse like they'd replaced Jin, like they'd replaced Willhite. 

 

But sometimes, still, he looks up, and Mouse isn't there, and he feels lost, like he failed somehow. He doesn't get letters, and he's not on the approved call list; it's like Mouse is gone, not just away, and his family is broken.

 

He stops sleeping right, and the memories creep up under his skin like an itch he can't scratch, but it's always there, distracting him. He twitches sometimes, with loud noises or people coming from nowhere, and he doesn't realise when he's tapping out some song on his desk. It goes away some, when things with Erin change and take up that time he was spending home alone. He starts to think he could still do this, and keep it to himself, if only he let her in, relied on her a bit more and in turn took on some of her issues; they might cover up his own long enough that he wouldn't see them anymore, so he could give her what she really deserves. 

 

Then Erin goes too, just as he'd started needing her the most; there's a space in the pen that grows black and dark and cold, and with the tiniest provocation, he thinks he might fall.


End file.
